Ulterior Decorating
by oncethrown
Summary: As they all face a world that isn't screeching toward an apocalypse anymore, Team Free Will find themselves facing a whole new set of challenges: remembering how to hunt for fun, the impossibility of not getting songs from "My Fair Lady" stuck in your head, and the inscrutability of the IKEA catalogue. Or: The one where decorating the bunker makes everyone fall in love


TV—Roadside Clean Up

They're about forty minutes away from the bunker on their way back from what had turned out to be a pretty run-of-the-mill salt and burn when Dean starts to pull to the right side of the road. Sam's been dozing, watching the landscape rush past. It's been a long time since he's been able to just rest in the passenger side after a hunt, instead of dig through lore or desperately try to solve a puzzle against a ticking clock.

It takes Sam a second to see why Dean is pulling over. A big white sign with the word "Free" painted on it in big block letters, perched at the top of rickety tower of furniture.

"What are you doing?" Sam asks as Dean stops the car.

"Thought I saw a TV," Dean replies. "Big flat screen."

"You want a TV?"

"Yeah." Dean threw the Impala in park. "Ever since we put Lucifer back in the box things have been quiet," Dean told him, climbing out of the car and making Sam follow. "This is the first time in, what? A decade? That we've been short one apocalypse? Just hunting instead of jumping from one shit storm, straight into the next shit storm, caused by whatever Hail Mary we came up with to deal with the prior shit storm?"

"So… you're bored?" Sam laughs. "The world's failure to end has bored you, and you want to be able to watch a little Maury between vampires?"

Dean scoffs. "I'm going to ignore the fact that you accused me of watching Daytime TV. No. We've got our own place now. We even get to sleep in it now and again. I would not say no to the occasional night here and there when we aren't out killing monsters, where I could sit and drink a couple beers and maybe watch some Swayze. Eastwood. Stallone."

They pause in front of the pile of stuff under the free sign. There is a TV, which looks like it's in pretty good shape.

"It's not a terrible idea," Sam concedes. It would be nice to watch Game of Thrones on something bigger than his laptop. And to watch anything without having to crane his neck down at his computer screen on the table all the time.

"Plus… imagine Cas, actually catching a Road House reference for once," Dean chuckles.

That's the last thing it takes to convince Sam. The way Dean laughs and smiles at the idea of something as normal as watching a movie he loves.

"Alright. I'll take left you take right," Sam replies, grabbing his self assigned side of the TV and lifting. "When is Cas supposed to be back?"

The smile slides off of Dean's face before he answers. "Got a text from him today. He should be back tonight."

Cas, as a payment for the favor he and Mary had called in from the British Men of Letters to get Sam and Dean away from the Blacksite they'd ended up at after what the Secret Service though was an attempted assassination of the President of the United States and an inexplicable, but successful assassination of his aide-slash-mistress, had gone in to look at the Men of Letters operation, hear the sales pitch, and see if it was something he might, in turn, be able to sell to the angels.

Sam considers asking if Cas said anything about whether or not their mother would be coming back to the bunker with him, but decides not to. If Cas has said anything about their mother, Dean would have mentioned it.

Sam nods, shifts the weight of the flatscreen into one hand, and opens the door to the back seat of the Impala, then helps Dean guide the TV inside. "You think he'll stay at the bunker for a while?"

It's an idle question. Sam is surprised when Dean's response is a grunt and a shrug instead of any actual words, but he lets it go, then goes back to the roadside pile of furniture, which also has a DVD player and a stack of DVD's. He grabs them without looking at the titles, and climbs back into the passenger seat.

They don't talk much for the rest of the drive. Sam reads off the titles of the DVD's which are mostly newer action flicks, a couple of romantic comedies, and a few kids movies.

Sam dozes off again for a while until finally Dean says, "I don't trust the Brits going after the Angels. The idea of those douche bags with fire power like that is the kind of thing that would ruin a movie night for me."

"The Brits already have plenty of fire power, and I'm sure they know how fractured the Angels are right now. I don't see a tactical advantage to trying to buddy up with heaven."

"Hmmm." Is Dean's only response.

* * *

There's a 1968 Rambler AMX parked outside the bunker when they get home. Green, with twin white stripes.

Sam whistles when he sees it, but sets his hand over his gun, ready to draw. Dean does the same.

The driver's side door opens. Dean draws down before he registers just who he's aiming at.

"Eileen!" Sam shouts in greeting.

Dean quickly holsters his gun, echoing Sam's cry as he does.

"Hi guys!"

Sam crosses the distance between them, pulling her into a hug before stepping back so she can see his face. "What are you doing here? How did you even find us?"

"I was in Sioux Falls, on a hunt with Jody a couple weeks ago. She said if I was ever in Kansas that I should stop by. See your secret lair. She gave me the coordinates."

"This is a goddamn beautiful car," Dean tells her, before he starts to appreciatively circle the vehicle. "V8 Engine?"

"Better believe it," Eileen says, "But not a lot of trunk space. I was hoping I could stay with you for a couple days while I work on my gear storage? It's hard to do in the parking lot of a cheap motel."

"Yeah, you want any help doing that?" Sam asks.

Eileen shrugs. "Sure. But mostly I swung by to see if I could use your shower. I dug up three graves this weekend and slept in the car. I'm disgusting."

"One hot shower, coming up." Sam laughs.

They let Eileen inside the bunker and Sam shows her to one of the bigger bedrooms, which has it owns shower, before going back upstairs to help Dean carry down the TV.

"So. She came all the way to Kansas to fiddle with her car and use our shower, huh?" Dean asks.

"What, you want to do the full holy water and silver thing on her?"

"Oh, no," Dean says, a wide grin spreading across his face as he hauls up his side of the TV. "I believe it's her."

"So, what is your problem?"

"I don't have a problem. The walls in those bedrooms are definitely thick enough to stop me from having a problem."

"What are you talking about, Dean?"

"Sammy, seriously? The way you lit up when she was waiting outside? Her getting the bunker coordinates from Jody? You like her. She likes you. You _like_ eachother."

"Oh, grow up."

"Uh huh. Sammy and Eileen, sitting in a —"

"I will drop this fucking TV on you."


End file.
